The Caryl Chronicles
by hedwig123
Summary: A series of unrelated one-shots post season 5 that I will be continuing for an indeterminate amount of time. The prompts come from Tumblr, so I don't know how many I'm going to get. Focuses on Caryl, of course, but other characters will make appearances. Enjoy!
1. Kiss

So, this is going to be a series of one-shots (which are not necessarily connected to each other) based on one-word prompts I get from Tumblr. I don't know how many there's going to be- however many I get before season 6 premieres. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

* * *

The night they came back to Alexandria was chaotic. Noah, Pete, Reg, and Aiden were all dead, Glenn and Nicholas had nearly killed each other, and apparently Tara had been in a coma.

Upon their return, Aaron had found Eric immediately and probably wouldn't be leaving his side anytime soon. Rick and Morgan had reunited and left to talk privately. The rest of the Alexandrians had dispersed, looking extremely shaken, or, in the case of the Monroes, grief-stricken. Daryl's own group was mostly focused on either Glenn, who had a bullet in his shoulder, or Tara, who had just woken up.

The night they came back to Alexandria, Carol was the first and only person to actually welcome him back.

Sitting side-by-side on the back porch, away from both their family in the house and any curious Alexandrians passing by, Carol filled him in on everything that had happened while he was gone. The supply run, the situation with Pete and Jessie, the fight between Rick and Pete, and the resulting trial.

"Sorry I wasn't here. Shoulda been," he said when she was finished, holding her gaze.

"No, I'm glad you weren't. You've dealt with enough shit the past couple of months."

"And you haven't?"

She looked away, not answering.

"You shouldn't have had to go to Rick with something like that-"

"Well, the last time I did something without consulting Rick, he _banished_ me, so."

Daryl nodded slowly, glaring at a spot above her head. "Reminds me, I still haven't kicked his ass for that."

Carol half-smiled. "Just forget about it. That's what I'm trying to do. Forget about it… and what happened after it…" she trailed off, and he knew she was thinking about Lizzie and Mika again, but also knew better than to ask right now. Instead, he scooted closer and put an arm around her, offering what comfort he could. She leaned into the contact, closing her eyes.

"It's been a long week," she said eventually, breaking the comfortable silence. "And I did miss you."

"Missed you, too."

She turned slightly so she was facing him, but not breaking the contact between them. She was actually smiling now. "Oh really? You were wondering what I was up to while you were running around looking for new people?"

Daryl snorted. "Always wonder what you're up to."

She got a strange look on her face at that, but before he could ask, she leaned closer, brushing her lips against his.

Daryl froze automatically, and Carol quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, starting to get up. Instinctively, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, and she stopped, looking back at him.

"Uh," he stuttered. "Sorry. Wait. I'm just… not good at that."

Now it was Carol's turn to freeze, though in her case it was on purpose, giving him a moment to process whatever it was he was thinking.

He huffed, staring at her. "You… you sure about this?"

She stared back unflinchingly. "Yeah, I am."

"OK," he replied immediately. "OK. Good. 'Cause… I am, too."

She smiled again. "Good."

With that, she leaned back in to kiss him again. And neither of them pulled away.


	2. Cake

The kitchen was a mess. There was a huge smear of chocolate frosting on the wall, the container of sprinkles had busted and spilled all over the floor, and there was flour _everywhere._

"I asked you two to watch the oven for _five minutes_."

Daryl and Carl (who were also covered in flour) glanced guiltily at each other before looking back at Carol, who was glaring reprimandingly at them.

Carl spoke first. "He started it."

"Liar!"

"Yes, you did! You threw the flour first!"

"Yeah, 'cause you dropped the sprinkles everywhere!"

"That was an accident, yours was an _attack_ -"

"Ugh," Carol groaned. "Forget it. Just… go clean yourselves up before you get flour on anything else, please."

"What about the kitchen?" Carl asked.

"Oh, you're cleaning that, too. But you should clean yourselves up first so you don't just mess it up again."

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl said, grabbing Carl by the arm and tugging him out of the kitchen before the kid could make their punishment any worse than cleaning up their own mess.

Carol looked around at the damage again, shaking her head. She'd just asked them to keep an eye on Judith's birthday cake while she went to talk to Maggie. They shouldn't be wasting food like this. The flour and sprinkles weren't so bad, they had literal tons of flour in storage, and sprinkles were far from a necessity. But the _chocolate_? She stared forlornly at the smear on the wall. What had they even been doing with it?

"Hey, Carol-" she heard Daryl's voice behind her, re-entering the room, and she spun around.

"I thought you were going to clean up," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl shrugged. "Only two bathrooms, and Rick's giving Judy a bath in the other one."

"Speaking of Judy…" Carol said, hearing the timer go off on the oven.

"First cookies made outta applesauce, now birthday cake with no eggs or butter," Daryl observed as Carol removed the cake pan and set it out to cool. "You some kind of wizard?"

She threw a smirk at him over her shoulder. "I know a few tricks."

Daryl pursed his lips, thinking that over. "Know any tricks to get flour outta clothes?"

"Maybe… but you're cleaning _yourself_ up, remember?"

"Yeah, but I ain't a wizard like you. I need some help."

"Uh, no."

The two of them gave each other a level stare, Daryl clearly thinking up another argument.

"Now, if it were _you_ covered in flour, you'd have to at least show me…" he said slowly, pushing off the counter towards her.

Instantly seeing what he was about to do, she didn't even waste time backing away. She took off out the back door into the yard, with Daryl in pursuit.

A few minutes later, Carl came back downstairs to an empty kitchen, Judith's birthday cake still sitting on the counter. Puzzled for a second, he heard a shriek from the backyard, and put two and two together.

 _They're gonna make me clean this up by myself, aren't they?_ he thought, grabbing the broom from the pantry and listening to the yells of what sounded like Carol getting Daryl with the hose.


	3. Lovers

It was a stupid fight. It wasn't even about anything, really- they were both just worn out. There was a stomach bug going around Alexandria, hitting most of the kids- nothing life-threatening, but Carol had been running around for the past few days, helping out wherever she could, offering to watch sick children, filling in work shifts for parents who wanted to stay with their own kids. And Daryl wasn't much better; he'd been one of the few adults to catch it, in the very first wave. He was fine, now, but his exhaustion from that combined with an unsuccessful hunt that morning had left him in a sour mood.

So, when Carol forgot to meet him for lunch that day, they'd wound up snapping at each other. Carol had had to leave for another work shift before they'd cooled down, which led to an uncomfortable distance for the rest of the day.

That evening, she was in the kitchen getting dinner ready with Glenn and Maggie when Daryl walked in. They looked at each other for a moment before he hastily retreated back into the living room. Carol scowled, annoyed with him and herself. This was stupid, she was exhausted, and she just wanted to curl up next to Daryl and do nothing for a couple of hours.

Glenn and Maggie gave each other a loaded glance over her head.

"Lovers' quarrel?" Maggie asked finally, breaking the awkward silence.

Carol sighed. "We're not _quarreling_ , we just-"

"Bullshit," Glenn interrupted. "I heard you two fighting this morning."

Carol sighed again. "We just… both had a crappy day, alright?"

"So you decided to make it worse by pissin' each other off?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol turned to her, giving her a deadpan look. "Of course we didn't _decide_ to piss each other off. We just had an argument and didn't have time to cool down after, alright?"

The couple exchanged another look as Carol went back to chopping vegetables. Glenn reached over to take the knife, and she looked back up, confused.

"Go talk to him. We can finish this up."

"I can-"

"Carol," Maggie cut her off. "You spend so much time takin' care of everyone else you barely ever bother to take care of yourself. Go on. We know how to make a stew by ourselves, promise."

Carol paused, considering debating, but she knew they were right. She surrendered the knife and cutting board to Glenn, gave Maggie a pat on the arm, and went into the living room.

Daryl was sitting on the couch, looking an awful lot like a kicked puppy. He glanced up when Carol walked in, straightening his position.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately.

She sat down next to him. "Me too. That was ridiculous."

"Let's not do that again."

She snorted. "You know we will eventually."

He paused, sinking back into the couch slightly. She scooted closer, leaning against his shoulder.

"Well, then… let's just make up faster next time."

Carol hummed in agreement, curling up at his side as he slipped an arm around her. "Deal."

Time to do nothing.


	4. Smiles

The run team had just raided a strip mall- they'd already cleared out most of the clothes and furniture, but it was close, so they went to find what else they could. Tara found a toy store, and, despite Glenn's instructions not to take up too much truck space with them, Tara had been… enthusiastic.

Which was how she and Carol wound up on the living room floor, with a small heap of stuffed animals between them, and Judith babbling at them.

The baby was all smiles that morning, squealing and grabbing at a large stuffed polar bear. The bear fell over, and Tara chuckled, righting it, but Judith had already moved on to an excessively fluffy dog. She pulled on its' ears, giggling and babbling before looking back up at Tara, giving her a chubby smile.

Tara smiled back, biting her lip. "I remember when my niece was this little."

Carol glanced at her. The younger woman was still smiling, but there was something far-away in her expression. Carol reached down and scooped up the baby, grabbing a stuffed dolphin to entertain her.

"Are you OK?" she asked Tara, giving her a sympathetic look.

The smile slid off the other woman's face. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Carol shrugged, bouncing the baby lightly. "You never really talk about your family. I was wondering."

Tara glanced down at Judith, who was still giggling in Carol's arms, and shrugged. "Do you talk about your family?"

Carol nodded in acknowledgement. "No, I guess I don't."

"Everybody's lost somebody, you know? At some point I think everybody stops talking about it. It's probably healthier to try and enjoy the small stuff, anyway."

Carol nodded again, holding Judith close. The little girl looked up at her, abandoning the dolphin for the moment and reaching for her face. Carol bounced her again, getting another giggle out of her.

The front door opened, breaking the silence between them. Daryl walked in with Sam at his heels, both of them instinctively looking to Carol.

"Found the kid sittin' on the porch. Said he wants to make cookies," Daryl explained, looking at the boy. "Again."

Carol huffed, standing up. "Sam, eventually they're going to notice the missing chocolate."

"I know... " Sam said, shifting from one foot to the other. "But we can make _one_ more batch, can't we?"

Daryl smirked at Carol, reaching to take Judith from her. He knew that she'd give in; it was the exact same plea Sam had made for the last three batches he'd gotten her to make.

Carol sighed. "Go get the chocolate."

Sam grinned and dashed back out of the room. They heard the front door slam a second later.

Daryl snickered, then finally seemed to register the pile of toys on the floor. "What's this?"

Carol just shook her head and went into the kitchen. Tara stood, stretching. "Supply raid. These were all entirely vital, no matter what Glenn tells you."

Daryl snorted, adjusting his hold on the baby as she babbled and reached for his hair. He looked at her, and she gave him a chubby smile.


	5. Trust

"Truth or dare."

"No!"

"C'mon, Carol, truth or dare!"

Carol snorted, setting down her wine glass on Aaron and Eric's coffee table. She and Daryl had had dinner with them, followed by Eric opening a bottle of wine and declaring they needed to celebrate. When the others questioned him on what on Earth they were celebrating, he had simply replied, "Uh, the bottle of wine."

Daryl had nodded off next to her on the couch, having gotten up at 4 a.m. to hunt before it got to be a hundred degrees. Aaron was sitting across from them, chuckling next to Eric, who was enthusiastically insisting they liven things up. With truth or dare.

"Eric. I'm not gonna do it."

"C'mon, Carol," Eric whined. "It'll be fun. We won't make you streak or anything. Don't you trust us?"

She snorted again. Honestly, she did. With a middle school game, at the least.

"Alright. I'll bite. Dare."

"Yes!"

"Be nice, Eric," Aaron warned. "She's going to beat whatever it is."

Eric waved him off. "Carol, I dare you to… wear Aaron's bicycle helmet for the rest of the evening."

Carol deadpanned. "That's it?"

"... I couldn't think of anything else as funny as streaking."

Aaron snickered, getting up to get the helmet. Carol made a show of putting it on, plopping it on her head, clicking the strap, and then pushing it forward when she realized it was a size too big for her. Then she raised an eyebrow at Eric.

"So? Truth or dare?"

Eric pursed his lips, sizing her up. "Dare."

Carol grinned wickedly, glancing at Daryl, still dozing next to her.

"I dare you to wake him up… by… tickling his feet."

Aaron choked on his wine, covering his mouth to smother his laughter. Eric looked scared.

"How likely is it that I'll die?"

Carol shrugged. "Last I checked, he didn't have any concealed weapons on him. Worst case scenario is heavy bruising."

Eric grumbled, but complied. However, he barely got a hold of Daryl's shoe before he jerked awake, looking very confused. He stared at Eric, who was still holding his foot with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

"The fuck are you doing?"

Carol burst out laughing, Aaron chuckling along with her. Eric let go of Daryl's foot like he'd been scalded, retreating back to the other couch. Daryl looked to Carol for an explanation, but just looked even more confused when he saw her.

"The fuck are you wearing?"


	6. Sister

Judith was obsessed with Carl's hat. It was probably just a phase (she was only ten months old, after all), but every time he picked her up, she grabbed for it, trying to pull it off.

"I think she likes that hat more than she likes you," Daryl snickered one afternoon as Carl set the baby down on a blanket on the living room floor, and she'd successfully knocked his hat off, again.

Carol swatted him from her seat next to him on the couch. "Pick on someone your own size."

The two of them had been watching a movie- something child-friendly, at Carol's insistence, since Carl had been in the kitchen giving his sister her lunch. Daryl had grumbled but surrendered to a cheesy 90's musical. As long as Carol was curled up on the couch next to him, he didn't really care what she picked.

Carl had walked in with Judith about twenty minutes later, though, so Carol was probably right about the child-friendliness.

Rolling his eyes at Daryl's remark, Carl picked the hat up off the floor and put it back on his head. Fortunately, Judith's attention had already been diverted by the television.

Carol smiled at him. "Of course she likes you more than the hat… though she does _really_ like the hat."

"I think she just thinks it's funny when I have to pick it up. She's easy to entertain, you know."

Carol chuckled. "I dunno, it's a family heirloom. Maybe she thinks she's ready for the responsibility that comes with _the hat_."

Carl snorted. "I'm not giving her the hat. My dad gave me the hat after I got shot, because I had 'joined the club.' She is _not_ joining that club."

Carol nodded. "Fair enough."

"Wish someone would shoot this idiot," Daryl remarked, watching the male lead on screen break out into yet another solo routine.

"OK, I'm sure Judith won't want to share the hat with that guy," Carol returned.

"Hey, give her a few more months, Lil' Asskicker could just take this pansy out herself."

The baby squealed, probably in response to the colorful chorus that had just joined the man onscreen, but Daryl nodded and gestured to her.

"See? She knows she can take 'em."

Carol snickered at that, snuggling closer to his side. "Of course she can. Doesn't mean they get to wear the hat."

Carl looked from the couple on the couch to the ridiculous dance number on the screen, and shook his head again.

"C'mere, Judy," the boy cooed, scooping her up. "Let's get you away from these crazy people."

"Buh!" Judith chirped, chubby hands already reaching for the hat again.


	7. Past

Alexandria had a makeshift library. A house full of shelves of books, DVDs, music, and several odds and ends. One afternoon, after Daryl and Aaron left on another two-week recruiting trip, Carol went with Eric to check the place out. According to him, he could get through at least two novels anytime Aaron went out without him. It seemed like as good a distraction as any.

Entering, Carol's eyes were immediately drawn to a large book, set on the table in the foyer, with the words _Alexandria Registry_ on the front. Eric noticed, and went to open it.

"What on earth is this for?" she asked, nonplussed.

He shrugged. "You know. Record keeping. Keeping track of people who lived here, what technology we could get running, stuff like that."

"Why?"

He gave her an odd look. "Why not? People shouldn't forget the past. They should know what it took to keep this place standing."

Carol hummed thoughtfully, glancing at a page titled _Necrology of Alexandria_. On it was a list of deceased, accompanied by the dates of death. "Honestly, my belief is the past should be left in the past."

"Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it," Eric intoned darkly.

Carol nodded absently, flipping the book closed again. "I guess so."

"Reg used to keep track of it," Eric continued after a moment. "Deanna asked me to take over."

"Why you?" Carol asked curiously.

"I used to work in a museum. So maybe I'm biased on the whole 'history' thing."

"Maybe," Carol chuckled, moving past him. She walked to one of the overflowing shelves, mind still wandering.

Would her name be on that list one day? Or would Alexandria fall before her time came? Honestly, she couldn't imagine this place lasting forever- it was a target, for the living and the dead. Sooner or later, something would knock the walls down. She just wanted to make sure she had an escape route for her family when that day came.

 _Maybe it's best I'm not in any history books_ , Carol thought sadly, considering all she had had to do to stay standing. _The others, though… Daryl… it's good not to forget, I guess_.

Thinking of Daryl in that context, Carol couldn't help a shudder. Eric gave her a concerned glance, but she waved him off, shaking her head. Daryl wasn't going to be a part of history anytime soon, if she could help it.

As if on some twisted cue, Maggie burst in, looking frantic.

"Daryl and Aaron are back."

"What? They just left," Carol replied, stomach twisting.

"They had some kind of accident, they're in the infirmary. I didn't see what happened, just came to find you two-"

But whatever she said after that, Carol and Eric didn't hear, both of them taking off running out the door, towards the infirmary.

* * *

Part 1 of 2.


	8. Sharp

" _Shit_ ," Daryl swore, wincing as Tara stitched the large gash on his upper arm closed.

"Hold still!"

"I am!"

Stupid goddamn bridge. Aaron said that none of them had taken that route in a few months, but to Daryl it seemed like something that should have been checked _before_ they left that morning.

The whole thing had been a mess- the bridge was collapsed, the front tire on Daryl's bike had blown out because of _one stupid nail_ in the road… and the car had fallen over the cliff.

Aaron had dove to safety in time, though now his left leg was torn up and full of gravel. He was sitting on the other side of the room, with his leg propped up in Rosita's lap while she used tweezers to pick the pieces of the road out of it. Daryl, for his part, had a deep, six-inch gash on his right arm, which Tara had just finished stitching up with a sharp sewing needle, and probably a concussion from landing headfirst on the ground.

Tara sprayed his arm with disinfectant, making him wince again.

"There. Just needs a bandage and you're good as new."

"Don't forget the head trauma," Rosita interjected, eyes never leaving Aaron's wound.

"Oh, right," Tara replied. "So don't go to sleep for… what's the rule for that? Does he have to stay up all night or something?"

"No," the other woman replied, still focused on the tweezers in her hand. "Someone just needs to wake him up every two hours."

"Oh," Tara said slowly, taping off the bandage on his arm. "Well, sitcoms lied to me."

Daryl snorted at that, flexing his fingers experimentally. The cut really hadn't been that bad- it was just deep, and had bled like a bitch. Before he could assess Tara's suturing skills, however, he heard the door to the infirmary burst open.

"In here," Tara called, probably guessing who it was.

Carol rushed in with Eric right at her heels, both of them looking panicked.

"It's fine," Daryl said instantly. "Just some scrapes and bruises."

Carol frowned doubtfully, staring at the bandage wound around his bicep. Eric crossed the room to Aaron, dropping into a chair next to him and taking his hand.

"Really," Daryl said emphatically. "All stitched up already. It's okay."

"Don't forget the possible concussion," Tara said, standing up to give Carol room to sit next to him.

"Concussion?" Carol demanded, taking the offered chair.

Daryl gave Tara a glare before answering. "It's nothin'. I hit my head, yeah, but doesn't feel like anything but a bruise."

Carol exhaled heavily, closing her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, she placed her hands on either side of his face, giving him a firm kiss on the lips.

"You scared the hell out of me," she muttered when she pulled away. "Don't do it again."

"No promises," Daryl joked weakly. She rolled her eyes at his response, leaning in to kiss him again.

* * *

Part 2 of 2.


	9. Art

It had already been a long day. A meeting with Rick and Michonne combined with a double shift at the community kitchen had left Carol exhausted. When she walked into the house that afternoon, she was expecting to see Daryl on the couch with Judith, maybe reading or watching a video to entertain her. Instead, he was alone, restringing his crossbow, and the toddler was nowhere to be seen.

Carol plopped down on the couch next to him, glancing around confusedly.

"Rick said you were watching Judith," she said questioningly.

"I am," he answered, still focusing on his task. "Damn string busted again this morning, had to fix it, so she's in the kitchen finger paintin'."

Carol stared at him as he went back to his bow, her lips pursed and brow furrowed.

"Finger painting?"

"Yeah," he replied, looking up. "Why?"

Carol gazed at him incredulously.

"Is that bad?"

"You gave a two-year-old... finger paint… and left her _alone_ ," Carol said emphatically.

Daryl's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "Shit."

They both jumped up and rushed through the door to the kitchen, but it was too late. It was clear Daryl had set her up at the table, a huge piece of art paper covering it. Judith and the paints, however, had found their way to the floor, as had most of the little girl's artwork.

She looked up when they came in, giving them a big smile. "Look, Ca-wuhl!" (She still hadn't mastered the letter R.)

Carol looked. She wasn't sure what Judith had been trying to paint on the floor, but there was a lot of green… yet somehow there was no green paint on the toddler. There was, however, red, blue, and yellow paint all over her arms and clothes. Daryl groaned, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the damage.

"Judy…" Carol sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Haven't we told you you're only supposed to color on paper?"

Judith looked confused. "But it's not cowns."

Carol sighed again, closing her eyes. Of course. Two year olds. They should have known to be more explicit when they explained the 'don't draw on the wall' rule.

She squatted down to get eye-level with the girl. "We only paint on paper too, okay?"

"Oh," Judith said, gaze dropping. "Okay."

"Okay," Carol said gently, reaching out to pick her up, paint and all. "Let's get you cleaned up, huh? And you," she added, straightening and turning to Daryl, "clean _this_ up."

Daryl groaned again, but didn't protest. Carol smirked, leaving him to clean up his big green mess.


	10. Scars

It was bound to happen eventually. Most of Daryl's housemates had caught at least a glimpse of his back at some point. Carol, of course, and Rick, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne- it was impossible to live in such close quarters without noticing the scars. The only one who hadn't was four-year-old Judith.

That afternoon, when Daryl had walked into the living room to find her bawling over dropping her stuffed dolphin behind the couch, he hadn't thought twice about fishing it out for her. He hadn't even registered, as he reached into the crevice between the couch and the wall, that his shirt had ridden up. He'd handed the toy back to the little girl, and she'd thanked him, and he'd been about to leave when she'd looked at him with her big blue eyes and innocently asked the dreaded question.

"What're those marks on your back?"

He was lucky Carol walked in when she did. Hearing Judith's question and seeing the stricken look on Daryl's face, she stepped in to gently guide him away and make a quick suggestion of a movie to the girl.

Now, he was sitting on their bed, alone, mind reeling. He hadn't had to explain the marks to the others. It was something they had just instinctively known. He didn't want or need to talk about it.

But Judith was four. She didn't know.

When Carol finally walked back in the room, Daryl dropped his head into his hands. She sat down on the other side of the bed, scooting over so she could wrap her arms around him from behind, placing her chin on his shoulder.

"I put on _Aladdin_ for her to watch," she murmured. "Should buy you an hour or two."

He sighed heavily. "What do I tell her?"

"You could tell her the truth."

Daryl shook his head. "Kid's already got monsters to worry about on the other side of those gates. She doesn't need to hear about any more."

"She's going to eventually."

"Not yet," Daryl sighed again. He turned to look at her. "What're the odds she just forgets she asked?"

Carol tilted her head thoughtfully. "Pretty good, actually, considering a four-year-old's attention span."

Daryl nodded. "She doesn't need to hear it yet."

"No, she doesn't," Carol agreed.

"She doesn't."

"But she will eventually," she repeated. "And I do think you should tell her the truth."

Daryl craned his neck to give her a confused look. "Why?"

Carol rubbed his arm soothingly. "Because she deserves to know, because she loves you. And you deserve to be able to talk about it."

With that, she leaned in to give him a gentle kiss, and stood up to leave.

"I'd better get back downstairs. Don't wanna miss the Genie."

He half-smiled at that, watching her leave. Maybe she was right.

Maybe he did deserve to talk about it… but not with a four-year-old.


	11. Orange

Glenn had found a cat.

It was a routine supply run; clearing out a strip of houses in one of D.C.'s suburbs. The team had returned with Glenn carrying a fat, striped orange cat, and Tara already waxing poetic about how they'd found the poor thing crying for help in a basement and it just needed some food and look it already loves Glenn and couldn't they keep it Maggie please?

To top things off, it turned out that the cat was pregnant. Two weeks after she arrived in Alexandria, four tiny orange kittens arrived. A few days later, Glenn, Carol, and Daryl were the only ones home, and the former two were trying to convince Daryl to play with the kittens.

"C'mon, Daryl, how can you not want to hold the kittens? Everyone wants to hold the kittens!" Glenn exclaimed, holding one up to him.

"Not me," Daryl snorted. "For the last time, I don't like cats. Cats are assholes."

Carol rolled her eyes, cradling one of the kittens- the only girl- in her arms. She and Glenn were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, next to the box that had been set up for the cats. Daryl was on the couch, keeping his distance.

"They're not cats," Glenn protested. "They're kittens! Don't you have a soul?"

"Nope."

Carol snickered at that, startling the little orange fluffball in her arms. She whined, and Carol stroked her back, soothing her.

"Oh, it's okay, it's okay," she cooed as the kitten stretched, getting comfortable again. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing?"

"Don't fall for it. They're designed to hook you while they're little so you'll turn a blind eye when they grow up evil," Daryl interjected.

"I hope you know how crazy you sound right now," Glenn said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Just then, the mother cat, who'd been dozing in the box, woke up. She stretched, looking around at them. Stepping out of her bed gracefully, she trotted across the room to the couch Daryl was sitting on. She stared at him, sitting on her haunches.

"See! Look at it! It's plottin' my death right now," Daryl said, gesturing to the cat.

"Good. Maybe then you'll stop complaining and let us enjoy these little fuzzballs in peace," Glenn smirked.

"The cat is not planning to kill you, Daryl," Carol stated in a long-suffering tone. "She's probably trying to figure out if you have any food on you."

"And if I don't, she'll eat me!"

"Tigress!" Glenn exclaimed suddenly. "That's what we should name her."

Carol grinned as the cat hopped up on the couch, and Daryl scooted away, giving it a wide-eyed stare. "Agreed."


	12. Pookie

Daryl didn't want to get out of bed. He'd just been on a three-week run with Aaron, finally finding a group of four to bring back. Once they'd gotten back the previous evening and turned the newcomers over to Deanna, he'd barely bothered to say goodnight to Aaron before he rushed home.

His reunion with Carol had been enthusiastic, to say the least.

Now she was stirring next to him, waking up as light from the window reached across the room.

"Morning," she murmured, turning slightly to snuggle into his shoulder.

"Mornin'," he replied, tightening his arm more securely around her.

She sighed as he brought his other hand up to play with her hair. "Don't start that now."

"Not startin' nothin'."

"Yes, you are," Carol snorted. "I have the breakfast shift over at the kitchens. I gotta go."

Daryl groaned, wrapping his other arm around her in an effort to keep her there. "Can't Jessie or whoever cover for you?"

"You want me to make Jessie cook for thirty people by herself? I don't think so," Carol replied, wiggling out of his grasp. She hopped out of bed when he tried to reach for her again, and he moaned pitifully.

Carol rolled her eyes at his antics, opening the closet door to find her work uniform.

"Stop whining," she chided lightly. "Some of us have to work every day, you know, not just every other month."

"I hunt," he protested.

"Good," she smirked. "Then go hunt. Burn that extra energy off."

Daryl grumbled something into the pillow, looking like he didn't have any extra energy at all.

Carol sat back on the edge of the bed to pull her shoes on. Once done with that, she leaned over and smoothed his hair back, getting him to look back at her.

"Hey," she murmured. "I'll be back in a few hours. Gimme a raincheck."

He reached up and caught her hand, tugging her down for a kiss. "Hurry back."

Carol smirked, pursing her lips. "Sure thing, pookie."

He groaned, flopping back into the pillows. She chuckled as she got up and slipped out the door.


	13. Cuties

When Tigress's kittens got to be old enough, three of them were given to other homes. The girl wound up right next door, eagerly adopted by Tara. One of the boys went to the Anderson house, once Jessie surrendered to her sons' puppy dog eyes. The third wound up with Olivia, who'd been asking Carol periodically when they were planning to give them away.

The last kitten, a boy who was a darker color than the others, and the only one without his mother's stripes, stayed. Carol named him Copper.

Late one night, while Daryl and Carol were sitting alone in the kitchen, talking about the upcoming summer while Daryl sipped at a beer, Copper hopped up on the table. Daryl stopped mid-sentence, clamping his mouth shut and glaring at the little cat.

"Oh, come on, Daryl," Carol said, reaching over to scratch behind Copper's ear. "He's two months old, aren't you used to him yet? I still miss those other little cuties."

Daryl just raised an eyebrow at her, still frowning. Carol snorted, picking the cat up to snuggle him close. The cat purred as she continued to scratch his ear, nuzzling into her hand.

Daryl huffed. "Anyway, like I was sayin'. Deanna wants me and Aaron to go out for all a' June. Says it's time to find another big group, like ours, if we can."

Carol sighed, closing her eyes. Her hand paused in its' motions, and Copper pawed at it curiously.

"You can't go out for a whole month, Daryl. You don't know what could happen," she scowled at the table. "I'll talk to Deanna tomorrow. I can live with three weeks." She pushed her chair back, making to stand up, and Copper leaped back onto the table.

"Three weeks," Daryl muttered. It was still too much time, but it was manageable.

Carol sighed again, stroking the cat's head one more time.

"I'm going to bed. You two play nice."

Copper sat down, staring at Daryl as Carol left. Daryl glared back at him, picking his beer back up. He tilted his head back slightly to get the last of it… and the cat leapt into his lap.

Daryl almost jumped out of his chair, and the cat stiffened, mewing loudly in warning. Daryl looked at him incredulously, hands raised away from him, not sure what to do.

"Go away," he tried.

The cat blinked at him.

"Get offa me!"

The cat just stared at him. Finally, it lay down, getting comfortable.

"The fuck is wrong with you? I thought cats were supposed to be smart. Scoot."

Daryl waved a hand at him, but Copper just sniffed at it.

Daryl sighed. "I don't have any food on me."

Nothing.

"Your mama's probably upstairs in Glenn and Maggie's room. Go hang out with them."

Nothing.

Maybe he should stop trying to talk to the cat. He stood up, and the cat whined as he was forced to jump down.

Daryl refused to acknowledge him following him up to his and Carol's room.

* * *

Sequel to "Orange." (Possible part three coming.)


	14. Femme Fatale

When Carol finally started to let her guard down in Alexandria, one of the first things to change back to normal was her wardrobe. Gone were the pleated pants and floral sweaters. Back were the boots dug out of the back of her closet. One new item, though, was a black leather jacket- snagged on a run by Tara after Carol complained to her about the northern chill.

Carol loved the jacket. It fit her well- and it was expensive, too. She kept her knife tucked inside it, and it made her feel like some sort of action hero. Or a femme fatale.

Daryl made that comparison, too. And he loved the jacket even more than she did.

One afternoon, while Carol was replacing a window pane on the front of the house, Daryl set himself up in the yard near her, ostensibly to work on his bike. But within a few minutes, she could feel his eyes on her, and she smirked, glancing over her shoulder.

Daryl's eyes flicked back down, focused on his bike with a very forced casualness. Carol's smirk grew.

She could have fun with this.

She turned back to her work on the window, and she could distinctly hear the mechanical clinks of Daryl tuning up the motorcycle. The cold breeze picked up just then, and she innocently drew the jacket tighter around herself. The clinking stopped.

Still smirking privately, she casually raised her arms to stretch them, sighing softly. Reaching over her head, her shirt and jacket rode up slightly, showing off an inch of skin.

After a few more minutes of that, she glanced back again flirtatiously, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Eric was standing there, on the other side of the bike from Daryl, who was staring at Carol wide-eyed.

"Jesus, you scared me," Carol exclaimed, hand flying to her chest. "How long have you been there?"

Eric was openly snickering. "Long enough," he answered.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded, looking to Daryl.

He shrugged. "I enjoyed it."

Groaning, Carol turned away from the two of them as Eric broke into full-blown laughter. Flipping the knife out, she looked back, pointing it at him in a mock threat.

"Watch it, buddy," she ordered. "I still haven't told Aaron or Daryl about the Noodle Incident. You keep this to yourself."

Eric clammed up immediately, and Daryl glanced between the two of them. "Noodle Incident?"

"It's nothing!" Eric exclaimed, giving Carol a significant look. He turned on his heel and took off back down the road where he came from.

"Noodle Incident?" Daryl asked again, looking to Carol.

Now it was Carol's turn to laugh, somewhat evilly, picking up her makeshift window repair kit and strolling back into the house.


	15. Love

Author's Note: Behold, the epic conclusion to the kitten trilogy. Sequel to "Orange" and "Cuties."

* * *

The sky was barely starting to lighten when they finally pulled up to the gates of Alexandria. Daryl and Aaron had been supposed to go out for three weeks; Deanna had originally wanted them gone the entire month, now that it was warmer again, but Carol and Eric had both protested. Three weeks was doable, they'd done it before, and they had managed to find a group of seven to bring back… but an encounter with a large herd had forced them to stop, both for damages and to take a detour, adding six extra days to their trip.

Both of them had been getting antsy, to say the least- they hadn't stopped moving for the past 24 hours.

Michonne greeted them at the gates, already in uniform. She offered to take the newcomers to Deanna's for them, clearly picking up on their nerves, and Aaron and Daryl took off towards their respective homes.

When Daryl walked inside, he could see the only other people up that early were Rick and Judith, Rick giving his daughter her breakfast in the kitchen. Rick gave him a nod as he passed, rushing up the stairs to his and Carol's room.

Slipping through their door as quietly as he could, he found Carol curled up in the center of the bed in a tense, uneasy sleep. Copper the cat was with her, curled up by her stomach. He looked up when Daryl came in, but quickly snuggled back up to Carol, who shifted slightly. An arm went around the little cat, and she visibly relaxed.

Daryl felt an unbidden rush of affection for the cat; he'd been worried about Carol, knowing how she'd be worrying about him. While she was still clearly stressed, Copper's attempt at comfort was apparent.

Crossing to the bed, Daryl gently shook Carol awake.

She blinked drowsily before realizing he was there, and she sat up instantly, startling the cat.

Hands going up to his face, she didn't even say anything, pulling him in for a kiss. Daryl gladly reciprocated, pulling her into his arms.

A loud mew interrupted them, and they broke apart momentarily, glancing down at the cat. Copper looked up at them curiously, meowing again. Carol gave Daryl a questioning look, a half-smile playing at her lips. He raised an eyebrow, looking from her, to the cat, and back again.

"Alright," he said, finally giving in. "The cat can stay."

Carol grinned in response, pulling him in for another kiss as Copper meowed again, pawing at Daryl's knee.


	16. Kids

Carol had promised herself, when they'd arrived at Alexandria, to stay away from the kids. Judith and Carl were the exception, of course- they were already family, Lori's babies, so she had to stick with them. Then Sam had wormed his way into her heart, despite her best attempts to scare him away (all of which failed miserably).

But, so far, she'd managed to avoid the other children in the community. She made quick excuses of kitchen duty if ever asked to babysit. She never spoke to Carl's new friends or even his girlfriend; she even steered clear of Sam's older brother.

She swore to herself to do everything she could to minimize the number of children she cared for, so she'd minimize the risk of losing one again.

However, that oath to herself was challenged one day when Deanna came to see her in the community kitchen.

"There are seven kids under the age of 13 in the orphanage now," the older woman said, addressing Carol directly. "You know the girl who's taking care of them, right? Jenna?"

Carol nodded.

"She can't do it all by herself, so I'm going to start arranging for people to take work shifts during the day to help her out."

Carol nodded again, not liking where this conversation was going.

"I need you to take a few. Two or three times a week should be enough; I'm going to recruit a couple of others, as well."

Carol put on what Daryl had dubbed her "Deanna Smile."

"Sure," she chirped. "Anything I can do to help out."

She managed to keep the smile plastered to her face as Deanna left, flashing it to Jessie, too, who had given her a questioning look from the other side of the counter.

That evening when she finally went home, she had all but dived into Daryl's arms, fighting panic. He'd clearly been confused, stroking her hair and asking what was wrong. But once she'd choked out a mumble of "shift at the orphanage," he'd understood.

"You could just tell her no-"

"No, I can't," Carol said firmly, finally pulling away and sitting up. They were alone in the living room, side-by-side on the couch. She shook her head slowly, calming down.

"It'll raise suspicion- even if it's just a little bit, even if it just puts me on the edge of her radar, it's not worth the risk."

"Then I'll talk to her, say somethin' 'bout you being overworked or whatever-

"Sweetheart, don't take this the wrong way, but you're an awful liar," Carol replied. "She'd still suspect something."

Daryl stared at her, nonplussed, arms still lightly encircling her. "So… do you think you can do it?"

"I don't know… but it's better for everyone else if I try."

"Why am I not surprised that's how you're justifyin' it?"

Carol sighed, leaning back into him.

"All I can do is grit my teeth and bear it… I think that's all I know how to do anymore."


	17. Sleepwalking

The kitchen was a mess when Daryl entered it that morning. The bread box was open and empty, and the sink was on. There was a browning, partially cut apple with a knife lying next to it on a plate, and the water pitcher was out. There were two boxes of cereal open, an overflowing bowl on the counter with them. Some of the cereal had wound up on the floor, too; Daryl tried to avoid stepping on it as he crossed the room, with moderate success.

"The hell?" he muttered to himself, turning off the sink. He grabbed the broom from the corner of the room to start sweeping up.

By the time the kitchen was finally clean, the sun had started to peek through the windows. Daryl was just putting the water pitcher away when Carol walked in.

"Mornin'," he said, turning to her.

"Morning," she said sleepily, glancing curiously at the broom that Daryl had leaned against the counter. "Spring cleaning time already?"

"Nah, it was weird. Came in here and it looked like a tornado hit this place. Cereal and stuff everywhere."

"Really?" Carol said slowly, taking a seat at the table. "Weird."

"You hungry?" Daryl asked, putting the broom back.

"No, actually," she answered, looking somewhat puzzled by her own response. "Not at all."

Daryl looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't come down here for a midnight snack, did you?"

"I don't _think_ so…"

" _Think_ so?" he asked, completely nonplussed.

Carol pursed her lips, clearly considering something. "Well, when I was little… I used to sleepwalk."

Daryl leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. "And you're thinkin' you walked down here and got the food out… while you were asleep."

"I did that sometimes when I was a kid, yeah. I haven't sleepwalked since I was about nine, though."

Daryl snorted. "Hell. How's that even work?"

"Well, if I remember correctly," Carol replied, still speaking slowly. "The doctors said sleep-eating was usually stress related."

Daryl frowned at that. "You OK?"

She shrugged. "I don't feel any more stressed than usual. Maybe this was just the first time sleep-me knew she could actually find food."

He snorted again. "Maybe. Guess we should lock our door; can't be wastin' food like that."

"Yeah, we probably should," she agreed.

"Sure you're not hungry?" Daryl asked, opening the fridge and grabbing an apple for himself.

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He crossed the room to sit with her at the table just as Glenn walked in. The younger man walked to the counter, only to turn to back to them in confusion.

"Dude, where'd all the bread go?"


	18. Flowers

Carol opened her eyes slowly, wincing and stiffening as she registered a pounding headache. The light was dim, but she could tell she was in her own room, and she shifted slightly, rolling over, but Daryl wasn't next to her.

"Daryl?" Her voice was scratchy.

"Here."

His voice came from the chair in the corner of the room, and Carol turned towards it, grimacing as her head pounded again and she started to register other aches.

She squeezed her eyes shut again as Daryl moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How're you feelin'?"

Carol groaned in response. "I think I'm sick."

He reached up to lightly rub the spot between her shoulders. "Yeah, you are. You been out for a while. Since yesterday."

"Really?"

"Came home and found you knocked out at the kitchen table. The new doc's been over, too. She said it's some kinda flu; she gave you a shot and left some ibuprofen if you want it."

"Please," Carol said, nodding slightly with her eyes still closed.

His hand stopped its motions and Carol felt the bed shift as he reached over to the nightstand for the pills. Cracking an eye open, a blurry pink and white object caught her attention.

Propping herself up on one arm, she looked at it. It was a vase with an arrangement of pink wildflowers.

"Where'd those come from?"

Daryl gently nudged her back down, handing her a glass of water and the medicine. "Maggie brought it up an hour or so ago. Said Sam brought 'em over for you."

Something caught in Carol's throat. She tried to clear it, but it turned into a small coughing fit. Daryl rubbed her back some more until it subsided, and she quickly gulped down the pills.

Glancing at the flowers again, she frowned, closing her eyes again.

"Hey," Daryl said, still keeping a hand at her shoulder. "It's okay. The doc said it should only last a couple of days."

She sighed, covering his hand with hers. "Okay."

"Somethin' else wrong?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly. "Nothing."

Daryl didn't press the issue. "Do you want me to get you anything? You hungry?"

"No, I'm alright."

"You should eat."

She half-smiled at his fussing. "I guess I could eat."

He stood, giving her hand one last squeeze. "I'll get you some soup."

"That sounds great, actually."

He nodded, crossing to the door, but before he left, Carol stopped him.

"Actually, Daryl, could you… could you put those flowers downstairs? I, um…"

"Okay," he answered before she could come up with an excuse. "No problem."

He left with the vase, closing the door behind him, and Carol drew the covers up around herself, burying her face in the pillow.


	19. Tongue

"Honey, you need to hold still," Carol said patiently, tugging at the metal stud as carefully as she could.

Tara whined pitifully, as that was about the only noise she could make. The two of them were in the kitchen, Tara with her mouth open and head tilted back as Carol attempted to remove her failed piercing without tearing her tongue in half.

Enid sat across from them at the table, fidgeting. The girl kept exchanging glares with Tara, and Carol sighed.

"Enid, how did this happen?"

"I mentioned to Tara that I had pierced one of my friend's ears when we were twelve."

"And?"

"And then she demanded that I pierce her tongue for her."

"Ehh!" Tara exclaimed angrily, pointing at the teenager, but Carol would just have to hear her side of the story later.

"How'd it get all twisted like this?"

"Well, when I actually pierced her tongue, she freaked out because she wasn't expecting it to hurt, apparently. Hell if I know what she was thinking-"

Tara whined again, interrupting the girl, as Carol attempted to turn the stud to get the twisted part out without cutting her mouth up more.

"And she jumped up and the hook got caught on the stud, which made her freak out more, and that's when she ran over here." Enid concluded, scowling.

"Alright, hang on, girls, I think I've almost got it…" Carol said, biting her lip and pulling on the piercing again. With one final tug, the stud finally came loose. Tara groaned, sitting up straight. Carol deposited the metal stud on a napkin at the table, hurrying back to the first aid kit to get some gauze for the bleeding.

"Fanks Cale," Tara mumbled, covering her mouth with her hand and giving the teenager another glare.

"I don't know why you keep glaring at me, I told you piercing a tongue is way different than piercing an ear-"

"Oo i-in op me!"

"I totally tried to stop you, you wouldn't listen-"

"Girls," Carol said reprimandingly. "That's enough."

But Enid wasn't done. "She thought Rosita would think it was hot," she said to Carol, smirking.

Carol raised an eyebrow as Tara groaned again. She gave the younger woman a large piece of gauze.

"Here, put this in your mouth until the bleeding stops."

Tara complied, then glared at Enid yet again, as she was still smirking.

"So," Carol said, breaking the silence. "I was wondering why you came to me instead of Rosita, but I guess that answers that, hmm?"

Tara made a noise of protest and dropped her head on the table as both Carol and Enid started snickering.

Just then, Daryl walked in. Pausing at the door, he took in the scene of Carol and Enid laughing at a slumped-over Tara, with the bloody, twisted piece of metal still on the table between them. Carol looked up at him, still giggling.

"Hi."

Daryl opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to rethink it. Instead, he did an about-face, turning and leaving the three of them to their odd situation. Carol just started laughing harder.


	20. Word

At nearly a year old, Judith babbled constantly. Everything was interesting to her; her stuffed dolphin, the throw pillows on the couch, even Glenn's shoe on one occasion. She'd reach up and yank on the hair of whoever was holding her, if it was long enough (so basically, anyone in the house besides Carol), and go on and on, clearly trying to get a point across or demand attention.

And yet she hadn't quite gotten her first word out.

One morning, as Carol, Daryl, and Rick sat in the kitchen eating breakfast, Rick bounced his daughter on his knee, trying to get her to talk.

"C'mon, Judy," he said as she giggled at him. "Say Dadda."

The little girl ignored him, reaching towards the utensils on the table. He pushed them away with a sigh.

"Rick, she'll talk when she wants to," Daryl interjected. "She babbles all the time. Won't be long."

"How do you know?"

Daryl just took another bite of oatmeal and used the spoon to point at Carol, who snorted.

"Judith's at that age, and she's obviously trying. Just give her time," she explained, glancing at the little girl.

Rick exhaled impatiently but let the subject drop. None of them thought about it again as they started discussing the new security schedule he and Michonne had been working on.

Eventually, Carl wandered in, giving a half-hearted wave to the adults as he yawned and went to the fridge.

When Judith caught sight of her brother, she started squirming and reaching her chubby arms towards him, wanting him to take her. She whined, and Rick bounced her again, still going over the guard rotation.

"Buh!" she exclaimed angrily, still straining against Rick's arm. Carl hadn't noticed, rummaging through the refrigerator for his breakfast.

Rick broke off, glancing down at her and readjusting his hold. The baby whined again, clearly determined to get her brother's attention.

"No, Judy," Rick chided lightly. "Carl's eating."

At that, Carl looked up, finally emerging with an apple in hand, and gave his little sister a smile.

The baby huffed angrily and craned her neck to look at the other adults at the table. Daryl snickered, and Carol raised her eyebrows at her, fighting back a laugh.

Turning back and reaching towards Carl again, who was digging through the cupboards now, Judith grunted. "Buh! Cawl!"

There was a notable bang as Carl hit his head on the inside of the cupboard, whipping around to look at his sister. "Did she just… ?"

The adults at the table were staring at the baby in surprise, and seeing that she'd finally gotten her brother's attention, Judith kicked her feet excitedly. "Cawl!"

Carol smiled, exchanging a look with Daryl as Carl crossed to the table and scooped up the baby, grinning from ear to ear.


	21. Envy

Daryl had just left that morning on a short recruiting trip. He and Aaron would only be gone for a week this time- Carol repeated that to herself a few times after the gates were closed behind them. It was just one week.

A lot could happen in a week. Hell, a lot could happen in a day. But Carol was determined not to think of that, and not to think of her worst day, of the grove, ever again.

She was fairly well-practiced in avoiding thinking of "what ifs" by this point. And she was determined not to worry herself sick, like she had done the first couple of times Daryl had left Alexandria. So instead she went and had dinner at Eric's, and the two of them wound up having an impromptu movie night. They both appreciated the company, and when Carol left, she already had plans to return the next day.

By the time Carol finally got home, it was nearly midnight, and the house was quiet. Assuming everyone else was asleep, she flicked on the living room light, and jumped a little when she realized that wasn't quite the case.

Sasha was sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged and leaning against the couch. She had a half-empty bottle of wine in one hand, and glanced up at Carol when the light came on.

"Hey," she said, sounding forlorn.

"Hey," Carol replied. "You okay?"

"Meh," Sasha groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. "I don't think I've had a drink since before the Turn… I'm out of practice."

"You know, I didn't think I'd ever see you drunk," Carol observed, sitting down on the other sofa.

"Hey, it's Maggie's fault," Sasha said defensively. "Talked me into a damn drink for her birthday, and then went and pounced on Glenn after, like, a glass. Left while I was opening the second bottle." She held up said bottle in demonstration.

"You could close it," Carol suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"That… is a good idea," the other woman replied slowly. She held up the bottle again and gestured vaguely to the top of it. "But I don't know where the thing went."

Carol snorted and held a hand out. "Here, I'll take some of it off your hands."

Sasha hesitated, but surrendered the wine willingly. Carol took a sip and set the bottle on the coffee table, then slid off the couch to sit on the floor with the other woman.

Sasha tilted her head back again, and closed her eyes. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before she finally spoke.

"You know, I envy you, Carol."

"Why's that?" Carol asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know how you don't go, just, completely mental when Daryl leaves. I wish I knew how to do that. Like, I don't remember how to not… go crazy." Sasha trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut again, and Carol thought for a moment before replying.

"We all have our low points," she said slowly. "Honestly, I think I've already hit my lowest. And it's… weirdly reassuring to know that."

"What was your lowest?" Sasha asked, looking back up at her.

Carol paused for a moment, then attempted a teasing smirk. "You're the one who's drunk and spilling her guts, not me."

Sasha snorted. "Oh, God, that is what I'm doing, isn't it? Alright, I'm going to bed before I start quoting Nicholas Sparks or some shit." She pushed herself up to a (slightly wobbly) standing position.

"Nicholas Sparks?"

Sasha paused on her way to the stairs, screwing her face up. "I just admitted to reading Nicholas Sparks. I really am drunk."

Carol chuckled as the younger woman left. She picked up the bottle, considered it for a moment, and shook her head, standing to look for the cap.


	22. Sell My Soul

Carol actually fairly enjoyed working in the kitchens- she'd always found cooking relaxing, and it was one of the easier parts of her Alexandria disguise. But as with any job, it still had its' fair share of dull chores that needed to be done. And they usually involved sorting.

One early morning, while Carol was in the kitchens' makeshift office sorting and cleaning some wild plants, Daryl walked in with another armful of flowers. She looked up when he dumped them on the end of the table.

He'd brought two different kinds back today; yellow dandelions and some kind of small, white flower. Carol picked up one of the latter, inspecting it.

"What is this?"

"Queen Anne's Lace," Daryl shrugged, leaning against the table.

Carol's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? It's kind of… shaped different."

"... pretty sure."

Carol pursed her lips and shook her head, putting the flower down. "You know, some days I would sell my soul to have Google back."

Daryl snorted at that. Just then, the door opened again and Jessie walked in.

"Oh," she said, looking surprised to see the two of them. "Hi! Carol, you didn't have to come in early, I'll help you with that."

Carol waved her off. "It's fine, I'm almost done."

"Hey," Daryl interjected, holding up one of the white flowers. "Ain't this Queen Anne's Lace?"

Jessie looked startled, surprised to be asked. "Um. I'm not sure. You know, we've got a couple of field guides if you want to check." She crossed over to a nearby supply closet, disappearing inside it for a minute before returning with a glossy book in hand. She gave it to Carol and left to get things started in the main kitchen.

She flipped through the pages, eventually spotting a picture of the flower.

"Hmmm," she murmured, glancing slyly up at Daryl.

"What? What is it?"

"Well, it's not Queen Anne's Lace."

"Fuck. What is it?"

Carol pursed her lips. "Poison hemlock."

"Fuck!" Daryl exclaimed, hopping off the table, away from the plant.

"Yeah… I think I need to wash my hands. And we should probably get rid of this bunch." She gestured to the armload of flowers still at the end of the table.

Daryl grimaced, picking up nearby trashcan and sweeping them into it. Carol looked at him speculatively.

"Come on. You should probably let me hose you down now," she teased.

"Stop."


	23. Caress

Carol loved when Daryl came back during the day. When the community was already up and working, and she was able to see the guard on duty put up the returning party flag.

She loved when she got to meet him at the gates.

Daryl loved coming back during the day. When the sun was shining over Alexandria and he could clearly see that it was still standing, still safe, and there was more than a guard there to greet them.

He loved when Carol was there to meet him at the gates.

Neither of them were particularly inclined to public displays of affection; the most they normally went for was an occasional kiss or touch in front of their friends. But when Daryl came back from a recruiting trip, no matter how many people were around… they just couldn't help themselves.

The gates would open, the roar of the motorcycle's engine would fill the air, and Carol couldn't stop herself from hurrying over to him as soon as it pulled to a stop. Daryl was just as quick to hop off the bike, put his arms around her, and pull her close.

Instinctively, they'd always pause to savor the moment. He might raise a hand to caress her cheek; she might push up on to her toes just to be even closer to him. They'd take a few seconds to let it sink in; he was back, they were together, it was okay again.

Daryl always gave in first, leaning in to kiss her. Nothing desperate, nothing hungry, just another reassurance. Another connection.

That first kiss would last for a few moments, usually interrupted by Eric jokingly wolf-whistling or telling them to get a room. The couple would break apart momentarily, Carol rolling her eyes and Daryl blushing slightly, and, if no kids were around, flipping Eric off.

And then, finally, they'd exchange their routine greeting.

"I'm glad you're back," Carol would say, smirking up at him.

"Nine lives, remember?" Daryl would reply, and tug her in for one more kiss, before they'd take Eric's advice and go get a room.


	24. Negative

The late October air in Virginia was crisp and cold when Daryl and Aaron pulled up to the gates of Alexandria. It was likely that this would be their last trip of the year; no one wanted to risk being caught outside the walls in the winter, and the likelihood of finding anyone new to bring in would decrease greatly anyway.

Despite being out for nearly three weeks, there was only one extra person with them: a twelve-year-old girl named Anna, sitting in the passenger seat of Aaron's car, gazing warily at the walls as Aaron attempted to make conversation with her. It had taken six days to convince her to trust them enough to go back with them, but both men had been persistent. With a normal group they'd usually give them a day or two to make up their minds, but neither of them were willing to leave the child on her own.

It had been a long trip back.

Daryl was absolutely exhausted by the time they'd finally gotten inside and Sasha left with the girl, heading to Deanna's. He was half-tempted to just collapse on the ground, lean against the guard tower, and sleep there. But, he needed to see Carol, so he used what little energy he had left and forced himself to make his way home.

Once he'd parked his bike in the driveway and trudged up the stairs, he was grateful to get to his and Carol's room. When he opened the door, though, she was nowhere to be seen.

A tinge of worry woke him up slightly, and he looked around in confusion before noticing the crack of light under the closed door to their bathroom. Relieved, he crossed the room and knocked on the door.

"Carol?"

There was a rushed, scrambling sound from the other side of the door, and then the lock clicked and Carol yanked the door open, hand flying to her mouth at the sight of him.

He instinctively smiled and reached for her, but stopped when he noticed the slight redness around her eyes. Before he could ask, though, she closed the distance between them herself, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, hard.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back slightly. He reached up to stroke her back. "What's wrong?"

Carol sighed heavily, dropping her head to lean against his chest.

"It's been a bad day," she mumbled into his shirt.

His hand rubbed soothing circles at the spot between her shoulder blades. "What happened?"

Carol cleared her throat, straightening and attempting to pull herself together. "I had… a scare."

"A scare…?" Daryl questioned, keeping his arms wrapped lightly around her.

She huffed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, clearly bracing herself. She gently disengaged from his hold, walking back into the bathroom for a moment before returning, holding something plastic.

Daryl stared at it for a moment, ice pooling in his gut.

"Is… are you…"

"It was negative," she said quickly, closing her eyes again. "It was… it was negative. It's okay. Like I said, I just… had a scare." She turned away from him, tossing the pregnancy test in the trash. When she turned back, he reached out, catching her hand.

"Are- are you…" he stuttered and paused, trying to clear his head. "How are you?"

"I, um," she replied, glancing uncertainly into his eyes. "I don't know."

Not knowing what else to say, he tugged lightly on her hand, and she willingly let him pull her into his arms again. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and tried not to imagine little girls being turned into monsters or growing up too fast just trying to outrun them.


	25. Rubber

Rick's group was slow to adjust to the idea that they could have holidays again. While few people in Alexandria were interested in Halloween (for obvious reasons), Rick's group was alone in avoiding Thanksgiving, and by the time December rolled around, Maggie decided the others needed a push.

"Secret Santa?" Carol questioned, sitting in their living room with the rest of the group. Maggie was standing in the center, bowl full of paper slips in hand.

"Yep," Maggie nodded firmly. "And you're all doin' it. Don't be a bunch of Scrooges."

Daryl, sitting on the couch next to Carol, raised a hand. "How're we supposed to find presents?"

"It can be anything! Go to community storage and pick out a new shirt for them, hell, give each other pinecones, just… do it! It'll be fun," the young woman declared. With that, she held the bowl out to Daryl, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

He huffed in resignation, grabbing a slip of paper. The bowl was passed around, the others accepting it with a similar attitude as Daryl's (except for Glenn and Tara, who both looked almost as excited as Maggie).

Once the group had dispersed, leaving Daryl and Carol alone, they exchanged a look before unfolding the pieces of paper. Reading his, Daryl snorted at the name he'd gotten. Glenn. Why the hell not.

Glancing over at Carol, he caught her smirking at him. "What? Who'd you get?"

Her smirk grew more pronounced. "It's a secret, pookie."

"Is it me?"

She pursed her lips and pushed herself off the couch. "Not telling," she sang, heading up the stairs.

Daryl snorted, sinking back into the couch and putting his feet up. It was too cold out to do anything else anyway.

Two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, they reconvened for the gift exchange. They opted for an all-at-once go as opposed to one at a time like Maggie wanted, quickly handing out (mostly unwrapped) gifts. When Daryl came up empty, he glanced at Carol, catching her smirk and immediately understanding, smirking back.

"Dude, what the hell?" Glenn's voice broke his reverie, and he glanced back up.

"What?"

Glenn held up his gift, a package of rubber bouncy balls. "What even?"

"What? Accordin' to your wife, I technically could've gotten you a pinecone. They're toys. They bounce. Go nuts," Daryl shrugged.

Glenn opened his mouth to protest, closed it again, and seemed to reconsider. Finally, he shrugged as well. "'Kay."

The others snickered at that, and Daryl looked at Carol again, who was struggling slightly with the clasp on the bracelet Michonne had given her. Automatically, he went over to help her, squatting in front of her and hanging on to her hand after the bracelet was secure. She smirked again, leaning in.

"Yes, I got your name," she whispered, low enough so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Well, why didn't ya get me anything?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

Her smile grew devilish, and she leaned even closer to murmur right in his ear: "I thought we could have a… _private_ gift exchange, later on."

He grinned at that and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Can't wait."


	26. Heart Song

"Can I take this stupid thing off my hand now?"

"No, Daryl."

"But I'm awake! It's just wasting power now."

"The doctor said you have to keep it on, so don't mess with it."

"But Carol-"

"Do you not remember getting shot in the shoulder this morning?"

"Kinda hard to forget."

"So you're going to do as the doctor says and keep that on your finger."

"Ain't it just making sure I have a pulse?"

"It does some other stuff, too. Besides, I like being able to hear that you have a pulse after the way you stumbled through the gates this morning."

"It wasn't serious."

"How'd it happen, anyway? You kind of mumbled through your explanation earlier."

"Dumbass in charge of the armory didn't check the safety when I checked out that gun."

"So _you_ forgot to check the safety."

"... pretty much."

"Ugh."

"How long was I out? The hell'd she give me, anyway?"

"The doctor had to give you a tranquilizer because you wouldn't hold still."

"Not my fault she's got a stick up her ass."

"Daryl!"

"She does! I'm so sorry I moved when she started poking at the bullet hole in my shoulder!"

"Look, you hear that beeping? Just relax and quit fidgeting so your pulse doesn't go nuts."

"You wouldn't have to worry about my pulse if you'd just let me take this stupid thing _off_ -"

"No! Now quit asking or _I'm_ going to give you a tranquilizer."

"... sorry if I scared you."

"You did, and you should be."

"Sorry."

"I forgive you."

"Thanks."

"Now quit fidgeting!"


	27. Iconic

Eric was very devoted to his recordkeeping, determined to write out the history of Alexandria. One afternoon, when Tara came over to his house to return a book, she found him sitting on the living room floor, scribbling away in a notebook. Plopping down on the floor next to him, she peered over his shoulder.

"Whatcha doin'?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

"Recordkeeping. Well, kind of," he said, glancing up at her.

"Kind of?"

"Yeah. It's not the official Alexandria records or anything. I just thought…"

"Thought?" Tara prompted when he trailed off.

"Well, the other day when I was working on the records, I got to wondering how many people would ever actually read them. Even if society rebuilds itself close to what it was, there's only so many people who are going to be interested in records about dates and maintenance systems."

"That _just_ occurred to you the other day?" Tara asked pointedly.

Eric gave her a brief glare before continuing. " _So_ , I got to thinking about the kind of records a good amount of people actually would see. And I remembered these, like, diary-type stories I read when I was a kid, written by one person or a bunch of different people. So I'm just trying to… you know, record some stories."

Tara nodded slowly, lips pursed. "What've you got so far?"

"Just ones about recruiting trips with Aaron. I've been trying to think of some variety, though… got any about your group?"

"Hmmmm," she said, racking her brain. "Ooh, I know a good one! It should be recorded."

"Yes?" Eric asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tara got up on her knees, clearly excited to share whatever the story was. "OK. So. Has anyone ever told you about…" she raised her hands in a dramatic gesture, "... _The Hug_?"

"The hug?"

"It was epic. It was iconic! Or, well, it should be iconic, except only like a dozen people got to see it. But it needs to go in your notebook!" she said dramatically.

"OK, shoot," Eric replied, flipping to a new page.

"So, it was right after I joined those guys, and we had just escaped from a cannibal compound-"

"Cannibal compound?" Eric interrupted in shock.

"Yeah, I'll tell you that story later, just let me tell you the fun one!"

"OK…"

"So, we had just escaped, and we had stopped to find this bag of guns Rick hid in the woods. And he was going on about finishing the cannibals off and yada yada yada, when there's this crunch, like, a twig snapping, right behind us."

"Are you pausing for dramatic effect?"

"Yes."

"Just tell me what happened!"

"OK, OK, so… there's this sound behind us, and Carol walks up. She wasn't in the compound with us, and I hadn't even met her yet, but some of the others seemed to recognize her. Anyway, Daryl's head snapped up when he heard her, and then he just… I don't even know how to describe his expression. Let me put it this way; if it had been an anime, his eyes would have popped out of his head."

"Nice," Eric snorted, scribbling away.

"And then," she continued, "He literally- _literally_ \- _runs_ to her and _sweeps_ her off her feet. That is the only way I can describe it; he just snatched her up and hugged her so tight I actually thought he was going to break her in half."

"Really? Daryl?" Eric asked, a little disbelieving.

"I know! So like I said, I didn't even know Carol yet, and I already assumed that they had to be married. Imagine my frustration that it took them another three fucking months to even hook up. I mean, what the hell?" Tara said, frowning.

Eric snorted again at her obvious frustration. "At least they're together now."

"Finally. How Glenn and the others didn't just lock them in a closet together after two _years_ is beyond me."

Eric chuckled, flipping to a new page again. "OK. So. How'd you escape the cannibals?"

"Carol blew them up."

"Nice," he said, scribbling away.


	28. Pale Moonlight

Daryl woke slowly, instinctively securing his grip on Carol when he realized she was with him, while the warmth of sleep tried to pull him back under. He could tell from the dull headache he had that he hadn't been out for very long. Mind very fuzzy, it took him a minute to realize that they were in the backyard, not their room, and another minute to remember why. The faint smell of smoke jogged his memory.

They'd all had dinner outside that night, after Maggie had gone and found a charcoal grill in storage. That, Daryl thought, was how anyone should know that their group was actually getting comfortable here. They were getting used to having a kitchen and a house. They'd just decided to cook and eat outside for _fun_.

Even he was starting to relax. As it had started to grow dark and he'd gotten drowsy, he'd just gone to nap in the hammock they'd set up in the yard, as opposed to going to bed inside. And, apparently, Carol had joined him.

Now, as his head started to clear, he realized what probably woke him. It had been fairly cloudy all day, continuing into the evening. When he'd fallen asleep, it had been very dark, with the moon hidden behind all the clouds. But now, looking up, Daryl could see that the sky was finally starting to clear, with the moon out and lightening things considerably. The moon was nearly full, and the glow it cast on the yard was almost eerie. Almost.

Craning his neck a little to look at Carol, he thought to himself that moonlight looked damn good on her. The light was making their skin look pale, almost blue, and the shadows around them just made her seem all the more striking.

He knew he should probably wake her up. Eating outside was one thing, but staying in the yard all night was silly. He was starting to feel some chagrin about choosing the hammock in the first place, it was so frivolous. They needed to go inside and sleep in an actual bed.

But then, Carol sighed softly in her sleep. She unconsciously snuggled closer to him, tucking her head a little more into his chest, and he knew he couldn't make himself disturb her.

So instead, he tightened his arms around her again, and shifted very carefully, so that he wouldn't have a crick in his neck the next day. He closed his eyes again, but not before he noticed her smiling in her sleep.

Maybe getting comfortable wasn't so bad, after all.


	29. Falling In Love Was Easy

Falling in love was easy. Carol knew it had to be, because she definitely hadn't been trying at all. She'd just been talking to Daryl one day, back at the prison, and realized that she was in love with him. He'd just been explaining the details of the next raid to her, and a sudden twinge of worry for his safety had triggered her epiphany. The realization was jarring, but nothing about the buildup to it required any effort from her at all.

Doing anything about it seemed impossible, but in retrospect, it really wasn't that difficult. She'd ignored her feelings for months, sure that they would do more harm than good. Daryl's friendship was too important to risk, especially in this world. But then, months later, after the prison fell and they'd found Alexandria, it just… happened. None of the nightmare scenarios Carol had imagined came to fruition. In fact, it was the opposite. It was easy. It was wonderful.

But one day, when Michonne casually let slip that Daryl had mentioned something about _rings_ to her, Carol found it unexpectedly hard to swallow.

It shouldn't have been. Every part of her rational mind knew that. And yet, whenever she thought of the possibility of marrying Daryl, some battered shred of her old life started trying to resurface. Ed even started showing up in her nightmares again.

A few weeks later, Glenn cracked a joke at the breakfast table about Daryl pretty much being her husband already… and she dropped the pitcher she was holding, breaking it clean in half.

Glenn, sweetheart that he was, assumed it was his fault, thinking he'd accidentally said something inappropriate. He apologized profusely as he cleaned up the broken mess himself, insisting Carol sit down. Eventually, Carol managed to convince him that it wasn't about what he'd said, and that she'd just been on edge lately. Unfortunately, that also seemed to imply to Glenn that she was on edge about Daryl, and he relayed the incident to his friend.

And so, finally, Daryl asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing," she replied instinctively. It was later that night, and they were already in bed. Carol had just been reaching to turn off the lamp when he'd voiced his worry, and she withdrew her hand quickly, instead drawing the covers around herself.

She felt, more than heard, his deep sigh. And then his hand was on her shoulder, gently coaxing her to turn over towards him. Once she gave in, he moved to stroke her hair, finally getting her to look at him.

"What'd I do?" he asked, clearly confused.

"You didn't do anything," Carol replied. "Really. It's…"

"It's what?"

"Michonne said that you said something about… about a ring."

"I did. Is that… not okay? Is it too soon? 'Cause if it is, just tell me, I don't wanna-"

"It's not that. It's that…" Carol trailed off again, searching for a way to say it that didn't sound crazy. "It's that I've done the wife thing before. And it didn't… go well."

"I know that. Didn't think you wouldn't want to try again, though."

"I didn't think I wouldn't, either. But whenever I think about marriage, for some reason I just automatically picture my first one. I guess I'm having trouble imagining something… better."

At that, Daryl reached out, getting an arm around her and tugging her into his chest. She finally relaxed a little, closing her eyes.

"S'okay," he shrugged. "We don't have to do anything. I'm yours. You're mine. I don't need you to wear a ring if that's how it's gonna make you feel."

Carol glanced at him, slightly confused, thinking back to Glenn's earlier joke about them already being married. "Are you… are you saying we're-"

"I'm sayin' we can be just… us. We don't need to get married if you don't want to. Only reason people do decide they're married anymore is because they want to, right? So it'd be kinda counterintuitive," he explained, sounding very calm about the whole thing.

"So we're just… together."

"Yeah."

"Alright, then," Carol said, unable to help a small smile. "Sounds easy enough."


	30. Two

Inhale, exhale. _One_. Inhale, exhale. _Two_. Slow, deep breaths.

"Carol? You with me, sweetheart?"

Inhale, exhale _. One._ Inhale, exhale _. Two_.

She was sitting up in bed with her head between her knees. The lamp on Daryl's side of the bed was on, giving the room a little bit of light. She could feel his hand on her back, rubbing gentle, soothing circles there. He'd had to shake her awake; she supposed she must have been kicking or making noise or something during her most recent nightmare.

"Easy, sweetheart. That's it, just breathe. It wasn't real. You were dreaming." Daryl kept up his quiet mantra of reassurances, still using one hand to try and ease the tension in her muscles.

Inhale, exhale. _One_. Inhale, exhale. _Two_. It wasn't real, it was just a dream. Inhale, exhale. _One_. Inhale, exhale. _Two_.

"Just a dream," she choked out, muffled under her arms.

"That's right, sweetheart… easy…" She could hear the hint of tension in his voice that was always there when he felt like he couldn't help her.

Finally, when her heart rate started to feel somewhat normal again, she raised her head and counted out two final breaths. _One. Two_.

"Y'alright?" Daryl asked, scooting over on the bed a little so that he was behind her. Carol leaned back into him, welcoming the change.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay now," she replied, before letting out a sigh. "That was the worst one in a while."

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, though they both knew that he could already guess the answer.

"No," she replied automatically. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Alright."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Daryl reached up to massage her shoulders. Carol closed her eyes, enjoying the contact.

"Carol," he said, finally. "I know you don't wanna let yourself feel it. But-"

"I can't," she said firmly. "I _can't_ let myself."

There was a long, heavy pause.

"... alright," Daryl conceded finally, letting her close the topic again.

At that, she turned, tucking her face into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing the side of her head, and gladly giving her whatever comfort she would let him.


	31. Telling Daryl

Glenn and Maggie's first child was born in the mid-spring, right as the heavy rainstorms started coming in. The pregnancy and delivery couldn't have been smoother, and one warm, late evening, the healthy baby boy arrived, to everyone's joy. Over the course of the next few days, the newborn wound up in the arms of what was probably every single person in Alexandria. Except for one.

"Why haven't you held the baby?"

Carol was sitting on the edge of their bed, putting her shoes on when Daryl asked her. He was standing a few feet away from her, already dressed, and looking down at her with blatant worry on his face. They were going over to Aaron and Eric's with Glenn, Maggie, and the baby. No one wanted to stop celebrating, least of all the new parents.

She decided to try playing dumb. "What makes you think that?"

"Been with you. You haven't, don't lie."

"I guess I hadn't thought about it."

"Carol."

She sighed, dropping her head in her hands and rubbing at her eyes. He knew the real answer. Of course he did. And she could tell he wasn't going to let it go this time.

"Daryl…"

"Sweetheart," he interrupted, coming to squat in front of her, so that they would be at eye-level, were she looking up. "I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. It's been _ages_ since the prison… what happened, happened. You gotta feel it to get past it."

"I can't," she shakily declared. "I can't- do either. You don't know-"

"You've never tried," Daryl challenged. And he was right.

After a few long moments, Carol finally looked up to meet his gaze. He wore one of the gentlest expressions she'd ever seen on his face, and his eyes were pleading. It had been too long. She knew that. She needed to tell him.

Closing her eyes in resignation, she swatted the bed next to her. "Sit."

He obeyed, and she looked down again, not wanting to see his face. It took her a few moments to decide where to start.

"Lizzie… she was confused about them. The walkers. She thought they were still people, just different. It wasn't her fault. Something wasn't right in her mind, and I didn't… she couldn't understand, and… and I didn't know how to help her. I tried. I tried to show her, tried to explain it to her, but I didn't know what to do."

"After I found Tyreese and the girls, we found a pecan grove. We decided to stay there for a few days. I thought it'd be a good place to try and teach Mika how to protect herself- she was too sweet for her own good." She smiled bitterly. "And I thought it might be good for Lizzie, too. Get her off the road for a while, and maybe…" she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, so she just left it as it was. But now it was time for the hard part.

"Lizzie. I thought she was finally understanding, I thought she might be okay. But…" Carol choked, cutting herself off. Dimly, she registered Daryl's arm going around her back, trying to comfort her, to steady her.

"She wanted to make me understand. She wanted me to see that _she_ was right about the walkers. So…" Carol forced herself not to stop, forced herself to continue. "She killed Mika."

She felt Daryl's arm stiffen around her, but she couldn't look at his face to see his expression. She didn't have it in her, at that moment. But then the bed shifted, and he was behind her, wrapping both arms around her and pressing his face to her shoulder.

"It was just Tyreese and me, and… and Judith. We couldn't keep her around Judith. Tyreese offered to leave with her, let me stay with Lizzie at the grove, but we couldn't do that. He couldn't take care of the baby alone, out on the road. And I couldn't leave with Lizzie. She could wander off on her own, or worse. It would take at least two people to look after her, but it would take at least two people to look after Judith, and… we had to separate them, so…" She couldn't make herself finish that part. Daryl wasn't stupid. He would know what their solution had been.

"I don't wanna hold the baby," she gasped out, determined to get through. "Because he's Glenn and Maggie's, and I already love him too much, and… and I can't do it again. I can't. I can't do it again. I know I can't." She wasn't even sure she was still coherent at this point; it was getting hard to breathe, let alone speak, around the tears in her throat.

Daryl was quiet. He probably didn't know what to say, but Carol didn't really care at that point. She was only dimly aware of him turning her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, her breath hitching as the tears started to fall.

But as his hand came up to stroke her hair, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head, she couldn't help but notice that that weight in her heart was finally starting to lighten.

* * *

Full prompt: "For a prompt, if you haven't done it yet: carol finally tells daryl, and reacts to, what happened with the girls at the grove."


	32. Lord of the Rings

This was not what Daryl had expected when he walked down the stairs that morning.

Carol, Glenn, and Tara were sitting cross-legged on the floor around the coffee table, with Carl and Enid sitting together on the couch above them. The table held two huge bowls of popcorn and an assorted bag of Halloween candy between them, along with a stack of DVDs. Tara wore a determined expression, Glenn an exasperated one, and Carol a highly amused one. Carl and Enid just looked like they were on a supervised date.

"What's all this?" he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

Tara looked ready to launch into a spiel, but Carol answered quicker. "It's a Lord of the Rings marathon."

"Oh… why?"

"That's a good question," Glenn said sarcastically, and Tara glared at him.

"We're having an all-day marathon, of the _extended_ cuts, because a _certain_ grown adult in this room has never seen them!"

"She means me," Glenn explained, still sarcastic.

"And that is a travesty that needs to be corrected!" Tara concluded, looking from Carol to Daryl as if daring them to argue. "And, also, we need to indoctrinate the young ones." She gestured at Carl and Enid, the former of whom waved jokingly.

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I know why _I_ haven't seen them, but Glenn? I thought you'd love those kinda movies."

"That's what I said to him!" Tara exclaimed, before doing a double take. "Wait, you haven't seen them either? Join us! We have candy!"

" _I_ haven't seen them," Glenn interrupted. "Because I prefer sci-fi. I'm not a big fantasy person, and Lord of the Rings is a huge time commitment. It's going to take us all day to watch these."

"And you will end this day a better person," Tara said solemnly. "Seriously, Daryl, dude, sit down! You and Carol can get all cuddly if you want, I don't care."

Carol snickered, holding a hand up to him. He took it, and she tugged him down on the floor next to her, and she snuggled right up to him.

Tara snorted and pressed play on the remote, and the music started.


	33. Smoke

It had rained all night, and that, combined with the high July temperature made the air around Alexandria humid and heavy that morning. The ground was too soft and muddy for a proper hunt, so after checking the traps at dawn, Daryl went back home. He settled on the back porch, where he was eventually joined by Tara, who offered him a smoke from a pack she'd found on the last run. The girl wasn't bad company; she was happy to ramble on and on about this and that, and he didn't have to respond. All in all, it was shaping up to be a good day.

Until, at least, Michonne came out the back door to join them, only to stop short at the sight of the cigarettes.

"Really?" she scoffed. "The flesh-eating corpses aren't enough for you? You've gotta shoot for the lung cancer and heart disease?"

"I don't smoke that much," Tara said defensively.

"I've been cuttin' back," Daryl offered. To be fair, he really had; besides the fact that cigarettes were getting harder and harder to come by, he knew Carol wasn't crazy about the taste of them, so he tried to only smoke when he knew she would be busy elsewhere.

Michonne was having none of it, though. "That's what everyone says!"

Daryl snorted, not in the mood for this argument. Just then, Carl came running out the door, nearly trampling Michonne.

"Hey, easy," she said, catching him by the shoulders before they were both flung off the porch. "Where're you going?"

"Fell asleep- supposed to meet Enid- gotta go!" the boy exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of Michonne's grasp.

Tara and Daryl both snickered at the teen's explanation, and Michonne rolled her eyes, letting him go. He took off like a bullet from a gun, disappearing from their sight in a second.

"What was I saying? Oh, right, cancer and heart disease and death."

"Michonne," Daryl interrupted. "Why are you bringin' this up now? Ain't the flesh-eatin' corpses a bigger concern?"

She sighed, then snorted. "Maybe that's why I'm bringing it up. I've gotten used to worrying."

Daryl opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted, once again, by the back door opening, and Enid walked out.

"Have you seen Carl?" the girl asked. "He was supposed to meet me half an hour ago."

"He just took off looking for you," Tara supplied. "Think he said something about falling asleep."

Enid sighed. "Of course." Then she paused, raising an eyebrow at them. "Where'd you get the cigarettes?"

"Last run," Tara shrugged.

"Did you know smoking can be linked to erectile dysfunction?"

Daryl choked as Michonne burst out laughing. Tara simply looked surprised, raising an eyebrow at the teenager.

"Where'd you learn that?" she asked.

Enid shrugged. "You know how they had those, like, traveling school speakers who tried to convince kids never to smoke or have sex or whatever? One time when I was in seventh grade this woman came in to talk about smoking, and she mentioned that. I remembered it because it was really funny how all the boys freaked out when she said it."

Tara snorted, glancing from the girl to Daryl, who was openly gaping at the teen. Michonne just kept laughing.


	34. Mother-in-law

"I'm dead serious. This bitch insults me, and then just _smiles_ at me and goes 'oh, don't take it personally, I'm practically your mother-in-law.'"

Carol snorted, clutching her glass of wine a little tighter. After all of the stressful events and changes Alexandria had gone through in the past few weeks, Deanna had thrown a bit of a block party, to lift spirits. It was mostly just alcohol and a huge potluck dinner at the Monroes'. Carol had made her rounds for a couple of hours, but was worn out enough that she had gone home early, settling on the back porch steps.

Lucky for her, Michonne had shown up with a bottle of wine shortly after, and after a few glasses, they'd started trying to one-up each other with ridiculous stories. At the moment, Michonne was in the middle of one about her old boyfriend's mother.

"I'm telling you," she continued with a slight slur. "It took every ounce of willpower I had to not tell her she was the reason I wasn't marrying her son. She was _horrible_."

"She couldn't have been the whole reason," Carol argued, snickering.

"No," the other woman conceded. "She was only, like, half. But she was such a bitch that I wanted to tell her that it was all her."

Carol laughed hard at that, her wine nearly going up her nose. She barely even registered the back door opening, but looked up when she realized it was Daryl who was standing over them, eyebrow raised.

"I was wonderin' where you went," he remarked, smirking a little. "Can't believe you left me by myself back there."

"Oh, please, you were having fun," Carol giggled. "I didn't want to interrupt yours and Eric's conversation. And you didn't even notice when I left!"

"'Course I noticed," he scoffed.

"But you didn't follow me, 'cause you were having fun," she said matter-of-factly, taking another sip of wine, and Michonne snickered.

Daryl snorted, his gaze flickering from the two of them to the nearly empty bottle of wine.

"Sweetheart, I think it's time I cut you off," he said, reaching down to either offer her a hand up, or, as Carol assumed, to take the wine glass.

Instinctively, she held it on her other side, out of his reach. "Uh-uh. I don't think so. This is mine-" she hiccuped, cutting herself off and kind of defeating her own point.

Daryl rolled his eyes and squatted down next to her. "C'mon, Carol. How about you 'n me call it a night?"

She pursed her lips, considering. "OK… I'll make a trade. My glass for your shirt."

Daryl snorted again at the cheshire grin she wore. He paused, glancing at Michonne to see her reaction… but the other woman had nodded off against the railing.

Looking back to Carol, he smirked again. "Tell you what, sweetheart: give me the glass and come on inside, and I'll give you a lot more than my shirt."

"Deal."

He couldn't bite back a grin at her quick response as she finally let him help her to her feet, handing over the wine glass. She glanced down at Michonne, finally noticing that she'd fallen asleep.

"I just can't believe Michonne is such a lightweight drunk," she giggled, leaning into him to keep her balance as he led her inside.

"Darlin', I hate to break it to you, but so are you."

* * *

Author's note: Since I missed my season 6 premiere deadline, I've decided to continue these for a while. I'm not setting a new deadline yet- we'll see how long it takes for me to want to stop.


	35. Interrupted By Rick

Keeping her bedroom door cracked open, Carol surveyed the hallway, waiting.

The night before, she'd finally made her move with Daryl. A brief kiss, a few stuttered words and murmured promises, and then the others had come looking for them. They hadn't had a chance to be alone again yet.

But now the rest of the household was gone, at work or school. She had just passed Daryl out on the street, talking to Glenn, and she'd managed to catch his eye with a significant look, heading back towards their house.

Now she was waiting.

But, at least, she didn't have to wait long. Her eyes snapped to the stairway when she heard the steps creak, and then he was there, clearly looking for her. She quickly opened her door all the way and gestured for him to come in, and he obeyed, but raised an eyebrow.

"Why're you hidin' up here?" he asked warily, and Carol immediately knew what he was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'm just taking extra precautions," she assured him honestly. They'd already come to an unspoken agreement not to share this with anyone else yet, which was why she closed the door behind him, creating an extra barrier between them and their nosey housemates.

Turning back to him with a smile, she reached out, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, casting a shy glance down, and Carol thought he might have been the cutest damned thing she'd ever seen.

"C'mere," she murmured, tugging him down for a kiss. He made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat, but quickly got his arms around her, pulling her even closer. She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

But as the kiss deepened further, there was a short knock at the door, and they barely had a chance to look up before it opened.

"Hey Carol, are- SHIT!"

And the door slammed shut again.

The two of them glanced at each other, still standing there in each other's arms.

Carol grinned, biting back a laugh. "Was that… Rick?"

Daryl snickered. "Think so."

"Does he think we were…"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Oh god," she snorted. "Do you think he's still downstairs, or that he fled the house entirely?"

Daryl laughed harder in response to that. "He's probably halfway to the gates by now."

They both lost it at that, having to hang on to each other to stay standing. When they finally calmed down, Carol reached over, turning the lock on the door.

"Don't let me forget that next time," she smirked, pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

Full prompt: "I would like to read a oneshot where Daryl and Carol are having their first KISS AND Rick WALKS IN ON THEM ?"


	36. Her Eyes

"OK, keep looking at my finger… right… up… alright, I think we're done. I don't see anything."

Carol sighed as Denise turned off her small flashlight. Her eyes were dry from staying open while said flashlight was shined into them, and she blinked a few times, trying to clear them.

"So she's OK?" Daryl asked from the corner of the room, where he'd sat as patiently as possible while Denise gave as thorough an eye examination as she could.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't see any signs of infection or anything. It's probably just naturally developing… shortsightedness," the younger woman concluded, clearly out of her element.

"But her eyes ain't gonna fall out or anything, right?" Daryl joked, crossing the room to stand at Carol's shoulder. She rolled her definitely-not-falling-out eyes, unamused by his attempt to lighten the mood.

Denise let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. "No, I think I'm at least qualified enough to promise that. But you probably want to try glasses."

"Great, just write me a prescription and I'll head to the store," Carol muttered testily. Daryl snorted, but reached up to rub her shoulder comfortingly.

The other woman laughed nervously again. "Actually, we have a box of different prescription glasses. The run team raided a store for them about a year ago. Hopefully a pair of them will work for you?"

"She'll try 'em," Daryl answered quickly, preventing Carol from snarking at the young doctor again.

As Denise left to go get the glasses, Carol sighed again, glaring at the floor in annoyance.

"Ain't a big deal," Daryl murmured, still rubbing at her shoulder. "The glasses'll fix it."

Carol hummed noncommittally in response, glaring at the floor some more.

"What is it?"

She sighed in response, finally glancing up at him. "It's nothing. It's silly."

"Try me."

She snorted, shaking her head. "OK, fine. It's that… well, I've never had an eye problem in my whole life. All my siblings had glasses since we were kids, and I guess… I was kind of weirdly proud of the fact that I didn't? Or smug, I guess, would be the better word. It's silly, I told you. It's just a knee-jerk reaction stemming from five-year-old me."

Looking up at him, she pursed her lips at his expression- he was clearly fighting a grin.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I know it's stupid! It's… it's stupid, whatever, just let me have a moment of pettiness."

"No, no, I'm not judging you. I'm just not used to you having… 'moments of pettiness,'" Daryl assured her, voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's kinda cute."

Carol huffed, opening her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Denise's return. The younger woman backed through the door, carrying a large cardboard box with some difficulty. Daryl immediately moved to help her heave it onto the table.

"OK," the doctor said, breathing a little heavy from exertion. "So you have more selection than I thought you would. I haven't been through this box yet, so I'm not sure how it's organized…" she trailed off, opening the lid to reveal an excessive amount of eyeglasses, separated by labeled plastic bags.

Rifling through the box a bit, Denise nodded to herself. "OK, I think the weaker prescriptions are more at the top. You'll probably need one of those… though beyond that, I'm not really sure where you should start."

Carol waved her off. "It's fine, I'll trial and error it." The doctor left them to it, and Carol went through the box, eventually settling on a pair with some harmless-looking black frames.

"Well?" Daryl asked, watching her expectantly as she put them on and looked around.

"Not bad. Maybe these'll work."

She got up out of her seat, crossing to a mirror on the wall. The effect wasn't too bad. About what she had expected. She turned to Daryl to gauge his reaction, but he seemed to be fighting a grin again, and Carol raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"S'nothing. Just…" he stared at her. "The glasses are kinda cute, too."


	37. Light

At one year old, baby Judith was starting to grasp a basic vocabulary. "Cawl" had been her first word just a month ago, and Carl still hadn't shut up about it. Since then, though, she had added a few dozen more words; mostly garbled versions of the names of the people she saw on a regular basis. "Glenn" became "Gen," "Carol" became "Cayl," and, to the rest of the household's great amusement, "Daryl" became "Dull."

"Dull," the little girl proclaimed one afternoon, tugging on his pant leg where he sat on the couch in the living room, babysitting while Rick was at work and Carl was at school. "Turn!"

She held up her current favorite toy to him, a ridiculous stuffed pink bird that lit up for a few minutes if you twisted the neck. Daryl thought it was a morbid design. Judith was oblivious, though, completely enamored with it since Glenn had brought it back from a run the week before.

Obediently, he clicked the light on for the tenth time in the past hour, and was rewarded with an adorably chubby grin. As the toddler went back to playing on the floor, Daryl felt a pair of eyes on him, and glanced up to see Carol standing in the doorway, grinning at the scene.

"How you holdin' up, Dull?" she teased, crossing over to sit next to him.

He snorted. "M'fine. Babysittin' beats sittin' on my ass in the woods waitin' for a squirrel to show up."

Carol snickered at that, nudging his shoulder. "Well, I like having you inside better, too. But I guess there's that whole pesky 'food' thing everyone's always talking about."

He snorted again. "I caught a couple yesterday. But it's gettin' cold; they don't wanna come out of the trees."

Carol opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by another exclamation of "Dull!"

The pair glanced down to see a pouting Judith holding up her toy again, looking ready to throw a fit, and it was pretty clear why: not only was the light out, but the bird's head was turned at an awkward angle, looking like it might be broken.

"Aw, what happened, Jude?" Daryl asked, scooping her up into his lap and taking the toy from her.

"No turn," she said sourly, little eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"You tried to turn it on yourself?" he asked, fidgeting with it. The toddler nodded.

"Well, that's good, Judy," Carol interjected. "It's good to want to try to do things for yourself. That toy's just a little tricky, right, Daryl?"

"Yep," he grunted, the bird finally making a mechanical clicking noise as he got the neck turned back to its' regular position. Gingerly, he tried twisting it again, and Judith's sour expression immediately turned to a smile as it lit up. He handed it back to her, and she hugged it to her chest, seemingly content for the moment.

As the little girl got comfortable, snuggling into his lap, Daryl glanced back up at Carol, and the "aww" in her expression was apparent.

But of course she couldn't just leave it at that.

"You're pretty good at this babysitting thing… Dull."

He groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch, and the stupid bird shined on even as Judith tried to squeeze the life out of it.


	38. Sorry

Author's Note: This is a sort-of sequel to "Negative," but it can be read by itself too.

* * *

The sunrise in Alexandria was bright and vibrant that morning, a few minutes of color in the overcast fall sky. The community was still asleep. Quiet. And Daryl was grateful for the peace, because he was sitting on his back porch steps, alone, and he needed to think.

He'd never wanted kids. Ever. He didn't mind them in general, but Dixons made shitty fathers- it was just a fact of life. And then the dead had started walking, and the world had gone to hell, and the idea of having children had become downright horrifying.

It wasn't often that he even thought about it. The last time he'd had to consider it was when he and Carol had first gotten together. He'd figured, of course, that she wouldn't want kids again, but they'd needed that verbal confirmation. They'd both needed to be sure of the other's feelings. And they had agreed; they did not want children.

So last night, when he'd come back from a long recruiting trip only to find Carol crying over one of those little plastic sticks, white-hot terror had flashed through him. But then she'd reassured him that it had been negative, and she'd just been scared, and all that was left for him to do was try and comfort her.

After she'd calmed down enough to fall asleep, though, his panic had started up again, and he'd slipped outside, to the back porch, to think.

That had been five hours ago.

And he was still thinking.

And he was still thinking when the sky grew gray again, and the back door opened behind him, and Carol walked out, still wearing the sweats she'd slept in.

"Hey," she murmured. "How long have you been up?"

"Mm," he grunted noncommittally, eyes following her as she sat on the steps next to him. "What're you doin' up already?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I just woke up. And you weren't there, so…"

He scooted over and slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into the embrace gladly.

"I'm sorry about last night, by the way," she said after a moment. "I didn't even say hi."

He craned his neck to look at her, and she met his gaze with a half smile.

"You don't gotta apologize," he murmured, returning the smirk. "Didn't offend me or nothin'."

"Still," she said, and she leaned in, giving him a slow, gentle kiss, touching her forehead to his when she finally broke away. "Hi."

"Hey," he replied, and gave her another kiss. "How're you feelin'?"

She shrugged again. "Better than yesterday. Relieved, I guess."

"Good."

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and it was Carol's turn to crane her neck, trying to gauge his expression.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Dunno. I've been out here all night tryin' to figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

Daryl waited a long moment before answering. "Figure out… why I'm not relieved."

Chancing a glance up at her, he inwardly cringed at her frozen expression.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying- I still don't- I've been tryin' to figure out why I'm feelin' like this. I'm sorry. You're right, I'm wrong, I know that. I don't- I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that. I'm sorry-" he was rambling.

"Shhh," she cut him off. "It's okay. You don't need to apologize."

She shifted in her seat then, getting her arms around him and gently coaxing him to lean back against her. When he did, she kissed the side of his head, and he started to relax, trying not to think anymore.


	39. Nose

It was the closest thing to a lazy Sunday that they ever got, and the closest thing to a real date that they ever got. Daryl had gotten up even earlier than usual to check his hunting traps, getting the game he found back to the pantry by noon. Carol had traded with Jessie to take the breakfast shift at the kitchens, making sure she had the rest of the day free. Then they'd set themselves up in the den, with Carol grabbing the food and some movies, and Daryl telling their housemates to leave them the hell alone and locking the door behind them.

Now, they were curled up together on the couch, with Daryl sitting at the end and Carol leaning back into his chest. At some point, she'd taken the blanket off of the back of the couch and pulled it over them. Some movie with a bunch of explosions and muscle-y men was on the TV, but neither of them were paying attention.

Carol was in a rare giggly mood, and Daryl was taking full advantage of it. Kisses to the side of her neck, stupid jokes about stupid things- everything was setting her off that afternoon, like they were a couple of love-drunk teenagers.

He pressed a light kiss to the side of her head, then to her ear, getting her laughing again, and she shifted, turning to face him.

"You're in a snuggly mood today," she remarked.

"Oh, _I'm_ snuggly?"

"Mmmhmm," she replied, leaning in to kiss him.

He tightened his grip on her, holding her close to his chest, deepening the kiss, and she returned it with enthusiasm, until a loud bang from the movie made them both jump.

They looked up to see some giant fireball on the screen, the context of which they'd both missed. That set them both off, snickering and readjusting themselves on the couch again. Once they'd gotten comfortable, with her leaning back against him again, she tilted her head back, grinning up at him.

"For the record, I like you when you're snuggly."

He half-smiled at that, and leaned forward to kiss her on the nose.

"Good."


	40. Protective Daryl

"You know, in hindsight," Carol muttered. "Maybe hand-to-hand combat with the goddamn Georgian Jedi wasn't my best idea ever."

Daryl bit back a growl in response.

As if the past few days hadn't already been hellish enough; getting back to Alexandria just to hear from Tara that Carol was in the infirmary with a _head injury_ because of that _son of a bitch fucking psychopathic piece of shit-_

Daryl was having trouble coming up with an insult bad enough for Morgan at the moment.

Thankfully, Carol had already been awake when he'd gotten to her, and he'd been able to see for himself that she was coherent, her eyes were a little glazed with pain but not confusion, and she was still there, with him.

He hadn't left her side since.

But as he sat there, stewing over what had happened while Carol tried to make jokes to calm him down, he was really, _really_ tempted to head over to the holding cells and give Morgan a piece of his mind. Or fist. Or maybe he should just shoot him.

Objectively, he knew that would only make things worse… but as Carol shifted in the bed and grimaced at that small movement, shooting that bastard was really, _really_ tempting.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Rick entered.

"Hey, Carol," he said quietly, concern creasing his brow. "I just wanted to let you guys know I'm heading over to the cells now. Try and figure out what the hell to do about him."

The other man's gaze was focused on Daryl as he finished speaking, and Daryl knew what he was expecting. And he was right.

"I'll come with you."

Rick looked unhappy, but resigned. "Alright."

"Daryl," Carol interrupted, looking worried as Daryl stood up. "When you see him… restrain yourself. Please."

Daryl thought he heard an implied " _for me"_ at the end of her request, and that was what made him nod in acknowledgement before he left.

The walk down the street was silent, with Daryl still fuming and Rick reluctant to interrupt him. When they finally reached Morgan's impromptu prison, Rick opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it, and moved to unlock the door.

The man was sitting in the corner, head bowed and displaying a pretty noticeable bump on the head himself. Somehow, Daryl didn't feel for him.

Rick broke the silence first.

"Morgan," he said gruffly. "We can't ignore what happened. What you did put the entire community at risk. There has to be some sort of recompense."

After several long moments, the man looked up. "We don't have to kill people, Rick."

"We wouldn't do it if we didn't have to. We wouldn't do it if other people- people like that man you were hiding- forced us to."

"Rick… all life is precious."

And at _that_ , Daryl snapped.

Crossing the room in a few long strides, drawing his fist back before the other two even registered what he was doing, he punched Morgan right in the nose with every bit of strength he had. The other man slumped over, knocked unconscious again.

There were a few tense beats of silence before, once again, Rick broke it.

"That was restraint?" he asked dryly.

Daryl huffed. "Yeah, it was. What I _wanted_ to do was shoot him."


	41. Halloween

"There we go," Carol proclaimed, snapping the last button closed on the baby's onesie.

The 5-month-old blinked up at her, clearly indifferent to her efforts. She tickled his little foot, getting a giggle in reward.

"Cookies now?" Judith asked, bouncing over next to Carol to see the little boy's teddy bear outfit.

The two-year-old was dressed as Supergirl; when Carol had raided the costume shop the previous week, the toddler selection had been very limited, but she'd eventually settled on a shirt with the Supergirl logo on the front and a little red cape sewn on at the shoulders, pairing it with red pants. The selection for infants had been even slimmer, but she didn't want to leave out Glenn and Maggie's son. The two of them already had to miss out on so many parenting moments; getting to dress your baby in a costume on Halloween _just_ to coo over them was a parenting _right_.

"The cookies are for after dinner," she reminded the little girl. "You can have a piece of candy when Eric gets here, though."

"Mable candy?"

"Mmhmm," Carol confirmed. "Just like the syrup. He made a big batch of it for today. You'll love it."

The three of them were in Carol and Daryl's room, where Carol had spent the past 10 minutes getting them both dressed in their costumes, wanting to surprise the rest of the household. Just when she was trying to figure out what to do with them so she could get ready, though, Daryl's voice interrupted her.

"What.. are you doing?" he asked from the doorway, sounding baffled.

"Playing puhtend, Dull!" Judith answered before Carol could. That was how Carol had explained it to her; the toddler didn't really understand the idea of annual holidays just yet, and she'd never even heard of Halloween, so Carol had just told her it was a day where people dressed up in costumes and sometimes got candy. She'd been satisfied with that explanation.

"I can see that, Jude," Daryl snorted, and looked to Carol. "Can I ask why?"

"Don't you know what day it is?"

"No?"

"October 31st?"

"Oh…" he said slowly. "Never was much for the holiday, myself."

"Well, there's going to be candy, if that helps," Carol offered. "And now that you're here, you can watch these two while I get ready." She stood and passed the baby to him.

"What're you wearin', then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll see in a minute," she answered mysteriously. "Just sit with them until I come back."

It was more like five minutes, during which Judith chattered away about "Soopgirl" and candy, and the baby started to doze off in Daryl's arms.

He looked up when he heard Carol re-enter the room, and suppressed a laugh. Her face was covered in green makeup, which she'd paired with a set of sparkly antennae and a bright purple t-shirt.

"An alien? Really?"

She grinned and opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"That must be Eric!" she proclaimed, holding a hand out to Judith, who was staring at her odd getup like she didn't quite trust it. "You want candy?"

At the mention of the long-awaited candy, the little girl forgot her previous worries, latching onto the offered hand and tugging Carol into the hall. "Candy!"


End file.
